


Drowning in a Sea of Stars

by Avenge_the_Name



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Force Ghost(s), Force Sensitivity, Force Visions, Force-Sensitive Reader, Gen, Ignores TLJ and TROS, Kylo Ren Redeems Himself, Kylo Ren Redemption, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sparring, The Dark Side of the Force, The First Order, The Force, Violence, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avenge_the_Name/pseuds/Avenge_the_Name
Summary: You have always been plagued by strange dreams. Visions of lives that weren't your own, impressions of distant feelings and tangled emotions.This one is different.This dream will change everything you think you know about the universe, yourself, and the dark commander of the First Order you are forced to serve.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 24
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this cause it's the first thing I've managed to write in over six months so I figure I should roll with it. In full disclosure, I haven't quite committed to this story yet, since it will be a large undertaking if I do. I haven't been able to write much of anything in a long time and even this chapter was kind of difficult to get out. I'm hoping the more I write the more invested I will get (because I do want to write a fun Kylo story) but I just don't know yet. 
> 
> Anyway, next chapter Kylo will make his appearance. Enjoy~

In your dream, you stand on the shore. The gentle ebb and flow of the water caresses your toes in the moonlight. There’s peace here. The tide in perfect rhythm. A soft breeze brushes loose strands of hair against your cheeks. Then the moon bleeds. 

The dark water roils. A storm wind blasts across the beach, whipping up sand and pushing the sea into a frenzy. All at once, the tide recedes. All that remains, as far as you can see, is a barren wasteland of sand, dark and red in the distorted moonlight. 

You step forward. You don’t want to, plead for your legs not to, but your body walks into that dead ocean with purpose. 

The tsunami would come. You know it, feel it humming in the air and thundering in your chest. Get out. You have to get out. You have to escape before the dark water comes crashing back and swallows you up. 

You keep walking. You can’t stop. You scream at your legs. Hot tears slide down your cheeks. You’ll die. This will kill you. Some force is dragging you along, compelling you to keep moving. Coarse sand sinks between your toes. 

But the wave doesn’t come. The water never returns. The sand dries up under the sudden hot sun. Cracks form in the parched earth. Still you must walk. The bottom of your toes burn with pinpricks of fire. You can’t look up for the blinding light and intense heat. 

Where are you going? What are you trying to reach? What could possibly be out here in this wasteland? No answer comes to you. 

The sun, too, darkens. Turns red and molten. Drips with heat. It burns. You can’t go on. The pain is too much. The burning penetrates your skin, throbbing through your limbs. You can’t feel your arms and legs anymore. The back of your neck pulses in agony. And now you can’t breathe. You can’t breathe . . .

Darkness. Stifling blackness that presses on your chest and suffocates your mind. It aches in your bones. You would never escape this. The darkness owned you now. You sink.

 _I couldn’t reach her._ But the thought is not your own. 

You sink. 

Your arm moves in the smothering darkness. There’s a pinprick of light that feels so far, far away. Should you even try? You reach out- 

_I must save him._

-and wake up.

You gasp and blink in the dim light of early dawn. This is your room at home. You quickly run your fingers over your arms and rub your legs together. Yup, all there. No limbs missing. A cold shiver wracks your shoulders as you let out a slow breath. You hated _those_ dreams. 

It had been awhile since the last one. You weren’t supposed to have them at all. As much as you wished it was a fluke, you knew it was your own fault the dreams had started again. 

You throw off the covers and slip out of bed. At least you’ll have an early start to your day. After getting dressed you shrug on the black hand embroidered jacket your father gave you for your birthday last year. It’s not exactly cold out yet, but it’s cool enough to have an excuse to wear it. 

The house is silent as you make your way down to the kitchen. It’s only after you’re swirling a spoonful of sugar into your cup of caf that your mother comes down from her room. 

“Good morning, dear,” she greets. You nod and mumble a good morning before returning your attention to the data pad in front of you on the bar. There’s not really anything exciting in the news, but it’s better than thinking about that beach and the melting sun. Your mother calls for the house droid as she pours caf into a mug. The droid appears and begins to make breakfast.

“I had a dream last night,” you say as casually as possible. She sighs and sits next to you. 

You don’t talk about your dreams. You haven’t since you were a child. But it’s become a sort of code between you, that when you mention having a dream, it’s one of _those_ dreams. 

“I’ll send a message to Rerin,” she says. You nod. “He wasn’t scheduled to come for another two weeks. Have you been doing your meditations?”

It’s your turn to sigh. “I’ve been busy with school. Finals are coming up and I have to think about my options after I graduate next ye-”

“What are you going to do when you leave?” she cuts in, voice stern. You purse your lips. It’s not like you haven’t thought about that before. It’s not a secret you don’t like meditating, but you would actually do it if you had the time to devote to it. Right now, you just don’t. 

“How are you going to deal with these nightmares when you’re off in some other system and Rerin can’t reach you easily?”

“I’ve just been busy lately. I know meditation works. I’ll have time for it when things settle down and are a bit more stable,” you defend. 

“The older you get the more you realize times of stability are few and far between,” she says dryly.

“Things have been pretty stable on Eleris for awhile,” you joke back, happy to move the conversation away from yourself. 

“That’s only because the Galactic Civil War is over. Even we got mixed up in it all when I was young,” she says. 

“It’s not over according to these guys,” you say, tapping the news story about the First Order. You’d seen them on the news only once before. And you thought you remembered your father mentioning them in passing on one of his rare trips home. It was more surprising that they were still around at all. From what you’d heard they were a group of ex-Imperial soldiers and newcomers banding together to bring back what had been struck down in the battle of Endor. It didn’t seem like much of a threat. Just a fringe group of fanatics. “Looks like they’re trying to start another one.”

She rolls her eyes. “Those are just leftovers from the old Empire, too devoted to realize they lost. The New Republic will take care of them eventually. They haven’t really given them reason to yet, since they’ve only been roughing up a couple of the frontier planets.” She sips her caf. “I don’t know why you’d even worry about them, they’re stuck in the Outer Rim with hardly any support.”

You shrug. “Not worried. Why would they ever come all the way over here anyway?”

“True.” There’s a silence as your breakfast is placed in front of you. You scroll through the story spotlighting the First Order, only mildly interested in the goings on of the galaxy. Why did you need to care anyway? Sure, your father was a senator in the New Republic, but you weren’t planning on following in his footsteps. You had chosen your own career path, one that didn’t include the fate of the galaxy or its politics. And if you were lucky, you would stay on Eleris in the comfort and safety of a system largely untouched by galactic power squabbles.

“Speaking of galactic powers,” your mother starts as you finish your meal. “I spoke with your father last night.”

“Oh?”

“He said he’ll be returning home next month. Seems he’ll have time for an extended leave,” she says.

You hum. He says that now, but you know what will happen. He’ll come back for a few days, maybe even a couple weeks, and get an urgent call from the senate and be forced to return before you could really get used to his presence again. It didn’t matter anymore. You hadn’t seen him, really seen him, since you graduated from secondary education.

As if sensing your sudden coldness, your mother pushes up from her seat. “I’ll call Rerin. Don’t you have class today?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. You leave the dishes on the bar for the droid to take care of and return to your room. 

Your school, The University of Eleris, was the top higher education institute in the region. Apparently the whole reason your parents settled on the planet - before your father became a senator - was so their child could one day attend the prestigious school. And here you were. It had crossed your mind a few times, how lucky you were that your parents had the means and forethought to push you into success from an early age, but you never felt the need to dwell on the fact. It is what it is. Your parents gave you the opportunity and you were obligated to take it. Maybe you could have refused, but you had just enough ambition to want to make a name for yourself in your field. 

It’s a clear, sunny day on U of El’s campus, the size of which resembles a small city in its own right. You watch people walk to the various academic buildings from the comfort of your family’s personal landspeeder. It passes through the political science and engineering sectors, both comprising a sizable portion of the east wing, and comes to the north eastern set of buildings that make up the physics department.

You step out and thank the service droid before making your way into the first of three main buildings on the left.

“Morning!” a bright voice calls in the hallway. She caught you fast today. Usually you at least make it to the elevator. 

“Hey Cassie,” you reply, stopping to glance back at her. She practically bounces towards you, her ponytail swinging her blonde hair back and forth as she goes. 

“Guess who was right about Marcus,” she says in a sing-song voice. 

You gape. “No way! He didn’t.”

“Jenna messaged me this morning. They hooked up last night.”

“That dog.” You grin. You knew your friend had been eyeing Jenna for awhile but you didn’t think he’d have the guts to bed her. “Think they’ll start going out?”

Cassie shrugs. “Probably.”

“Well at least one of us is getting laid.”

“Hey, I’ve tried sending guys your way but-”

“But they always get spooked once they find out I’m the senator’s daughter. Afraid he’s going to boot them off the planet or something. He probably wouldn’t even notice,” you grumble. You wished you could call their fears stupid and unfounded, but your father has used his position for petty reasons in the past. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t do it again. Especially if it had to do with his own family. Not that he was around to notice if something did happen.

She grimaces. “You know there’s no rule that says you have to tell them . . .”

You shake your head. “I’m not going through something like the Jake incident again. I’d rather be upfront about it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cassie says quietly. “Makes sense.”

You shrug and glance away. “Anyway, I’d better head up to class. See you at the study sesh tomorrow.”

She waves you off. In the lecture hall, you check your data pad again as it syncs to the table display. 

_Rerin will be by tomorrow afternoon. I won’t be home but I’m sure you can handle it. Love, mom._

Tomorrow? Great, that means another night with your mind wide open to receive whatever weird visions the universe decided to throw at you. You close out the message as the teacher enters the room. At least you won’t have to see that dark beach and the melting sun again. 

That was what you assumed, but this time was different. You don’t remember ever having the same dream twice. Not like this. Yet, in the morning, you are left panting a second time. True, there had been no melting sun, no sense of regret or burning pain. 

The ocean. It felt bigger this time. Vast, dark, roiling with some underlying force you couldn’t grasp. And the expanse of dark red sand when the water receded. Walking out into the death trap despite your own protests. That was all the same. 

You spent the morning anxiously waiting for your mentor to arrive. A tight knot sat in your chest. He would probably know as much about the dream’s meaning as you did, but you still wanted to ask what he thought of it. You couldn’t shake the feeling that these dreams meant something. More than any of the dreams you’d had in the past. You couldn’t even explain to yourself why that might be, but the thought hovered in the back of your mind all day. 

Rerin arrived soon after lunch, not with a knock on the front door, but with a soft echo in your mind. 

_“I am here.”_

You hurry downstairs to open the front door. A familiar alien figure stood waiting on the other side. 

It struck you again, this sense of luck. What are the odds that you, someone who suffered from chronic visions and strange dreams, would be born on Eleris whose neighboring system housed the navoi, a species of telepathic beings? With proper payment it wasn’t at all difficult to find one willing to help you deal with your special issue. Though now it was hard for you to imagine your life without Rerin. He’d been a far more stable presence over the years than some members of your own family.

He bows his bulbous, iridescent blue head in greeting. Two of his long fingers, more like tentacles than your own appendages, brush your forehead. _“You are troubled.”_

“Yeah . . . come on in.” You lead the way to the drawing room. Earlier, you had instructed the service droid to move the center coffee table to the side and place down two cushions in the middle of the room. Rerin takes the one on the left, folding his long legs and cradling his hands in his lap. He waits. Navoi are very good at waiting.

You sit facing him and mirror his position. You both knew the drill, so you wasted no time in describing your dream in detail. Rerin did not move, his large black eyes closed in concentration. 

_“Your mind is in turmoil,”_ he observes once you finish. He doesn’t open his eyes. _“What about the vision frightens you?”_

“Aside from the usual?” you joke before you can stop yourself. You take a quick breath and continue before he can respond. Navoi don’t have enough of a sense of humor to banter. “Well, this one happened twice. More than that, it was the desperation I felt in the dream. I didn’t want to go out there but I did anyway. It was like I was fighting myself and losing the whole way.”

Rerin doesn’t reply. You fiddle with the hem of your black jacket as you wait, mentally preparing yourself for the long minutes of silence before his voice finally came into your head again. It didn’t take as long as you expected.

_“You allowed the barrier to collapse. I will erect a new one.”_

You shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t address your concerns, but annoyance simmers in your chest as he opens his eyes. His hand reaches up and traces an arc from your right ear to your left. There’s a soft tingle in the back of your neck. His arm returns to his lap. His head dips forward slightly. You close your eyes and wait.

The antique clock on the far side of the room ticks loudly in the quiet room. You begin to hear the mechanical noises of the service droid somewhere in the house. A duo of birds sing to each other outside. 

_“It is finished.”_

You open your eyes. “Thank you, Rerin.”

_“With proper focus, the barrier will remain for three months. Human minds are fragile and easily distracted.”_

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I know. I promise I’ll meditate properly this time.”

He does not move for a long time. You know better than to ask, sure he’s thinking through his reply. You aren’t expecting him to shift in his seat in a show of nervous energy. Your heart patters against your ribs in immediate response. Rerin didn’t get nervous. Or anxious. Ever. 

_“Prepare yourself,”_ he says at length. _“A great change will come to you soon.”_

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” You swallow and lick your lips. “What kind of change?”

 _“I do not know. I sense it. It will come,”_ he responds cryptically. 

_“You also will change.”_

He offers no further comfort. No answers about your dream. With his job done, he leaves. The mental barrier will keep you from having any more dreams but it’s not as much of a comfort as you thought it would be when you woke up this morning.

Despite everything you try to tell yourself, his warning of change only feels like a dark omen.


	2. Chapter 2

The change Rerin warned you about did not come quickly. As your studies ramped up in the lead up to the end of the semester, the omen was driven from your mind completely. You didn’t really have time to think about nebulous future changes when a more immediate problem was facing you.

“-if this electron is described by a wave function psi(x, L), where L denotes the characteristic scale over which psi varies significantly, then the expectation value for the energy of the electron in this state is E(L) = . . .” you mumble as you read over the problem. 

Your stylus pen taps against the data pad synced to the table’s monitor as you work through the equation. 

“I’m gonna get a drink. Want anything?” Cassie asks. She stands up and stretches with a loud groan. You shake your head. Out of the corner of your eye you see her head for the kitchen. 

“You could tell the droid to do it, you know.”

“Maybe I like doing it myself,” she says playfully. You shrug. As long as she didn’t feel like she was wasting time. 

“I was thinking of taking a break in half an hour,” she says from across the bar. “Maybe we could watch a movie or something.”

The studious part of you wanted to say no, that you’re too close to final exams to laze around. But you were tired of looking at equations and star charts. Eh, two hours of mindless entertainment wouldn’t kill you. “Sure.”

“So what-”

She stops and looks up. Your ears perk at the distinctive hum of a shuttle landing. 

“Who’s that?” Cassie asks. 

“Probably my dad. I thought he wasn’t coming until the first but maybe he got away from work early,” you say. “Dunno why he’s landing in the backyard. He usually . . . .”

You look out of the large set of windows to your left. You would barely see the sprawling lawn of the estate in the darkness if not for the blinking lights of the shuttle rhythmically illuminating the manicured grass. 

That wasn’t your father’s ship. It’s not like any ship you’ve seen before.

You stare as the bay door opens. A tall figure dressed in all black steps out, followed by what is obviously a group of soldiers in white armor with blasters in hand. 

Run. You need to run. In the moment you saw the black figure emerge, a wave of dread pushed against you like a punch to the gut. 

_It’s him._

The thought comes to you so suddenly you know it isn’t your own. You don’t know who he is or why you should fear him, but the raw sense of danger drips down your spine. You have to get away. 

You sit there, trembling, only able to watch as the group crosses the lawn to the house. They’re coming. They’re coming to take you. 

How do you know that?

Rerin’s prediction of change flashes in your mind. Is this what he meant?

“Do you know these guys?” Cassie asks as she watches them approach from the other side of the bar. Her voice is exactly what you need to snap you out of your trance.

“Safe room,” you croak. “Safe room. Safe room!”

You jump up and sprint into the kitchen, grabbing Cassie’s arm and dragging her with you to the living room. 

“SC-77!” you shout at the droid, ignoring Cassie’s question. Thankfully she’s smart enough not to resist you. “Alert my parents that there’s an intruder in the house.”

You open the coat closet next to the stairwell and press the two buttons under the light switch. A mechanical click sounds and a panel opens up in the floor. 

“Tell me what’s going on!” Cassie says. 

“A-and the police! Tell the police,” you add to the droid. It beeps in confirmation. You finally turn to your best friend. “I don’t know. But I’ve got a bad feeling. Down the ladder is the safe room. They shouldn’t be able to open it. Hurry!”

More questions swirl in her crystal eyes but she doesn’t ask them. She dutifully mounts the ladder and begins to descend. You put your foot on the first rung, ready to follow her, when another sudden thought strikes you. If you stay together, she’ll die. The idea of it is enough to set your shoulders shuddering. You turn around, placing yourself back on the living room floor. 

"Don’t come out, alright Cassie? Don’t come out for anything,” you say. 

Her eyes go wide as she looks up at you. “What are you doing? Hurry up and get down here.”

“I can’t. Promise me you won’t come out!”

“Are you crazy? You don’t know what they’ll do to you if-”

“They won’t hurt me,” you rush out. 

She gives you an incredulous look. “How do you know that? You said you don’t even know who they are!”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling. Please, Cassie.” 

You both scream in surprise and fear at the sound of blaster fire breaking through glass. 

“Promise me,” you say again, knowing there isn’t much time. 

Her lip trembles and she nods. “I promise. Be careful.”

You nod back at her, sure that you won’t be able to get any words out around the lump in your throat. You press down on the panel and it automatically begins to shut. In another few seconds, no one will know it was even there. 

Your knees wobble as you push yourself onto your feet. You faintly hear voices just around the corner. That pushes you to scramble up the stairs. 

Heavy booted footsteps follow you. There’s more blaster fire. The sound of metal crashing to the ground. Did they destroy the droid? You slam the door to your room closed and lock it behind you. Not that it will do any good. 

You stand in the middle of the room and look around. Nowhere to hide. No way to escape. 

This will be the last time you see this room. 

Another strong, unbidden thought falling into your head. How many of them would you have tonight? And why did you feel so certain they were true? 

The soldiers don’t bother to test the lock. A blaster bolt punches a hole in the door. You yelp as it singes the floor only a foot from your left leg. The door kicks open violently. In seconds, two blasters are pointed at you. 

You throw up your hands. “D-don’t shoot!”

One of the white armored soldiers gestures with his blaster. “Downstairs. Now. Hurry it up.”

Seeing them up close, it clicks. You’ve seen this armor before. The Empire. Stormtroopers.

The First Order.

What are they doing here? What could they possibly want with you? 

You stumble a bit on your way to the stairs but manage to make it without falling over or passing out. You grip the railing tightly as you descend to the first floor. 

The blaster at your back pushes you into the spacious living room. A quick glance at the floorboards shows the entrance to the safe room is still closed. Your eyes travel to the pile of sparking metal that used to be the house service droid. Did it get to transmit its message?

Finally, your gaze is pulled to the black figure standing near the fireplace. His back is turned to you. The two stormtroopers stand at attention on either side of you. There’s another one stationed at the entrance to the room. Two more are ransacking the living room, obviously searching for something specific. How many are there here? 

The person in front of you turns away from surveying the family pictures on the mantle. You shouldn’t have been surprised his face is also concealed behind a mask. A black plate, silver trim on the forehead, and a slit for the eyes that you can’t hope to see inside of. A scarf is pulled up over his head like a hood. 

You swallow hard. The wave of dread hits again, leaving you almost dizzy with the force of it.

“Senator Brakis’ daughter, I presume.” The helmet’s voice has a low and unearthly metallic tinge. The distortion makes you question whether or not the person behind the mask is even human.

Your lip trembles. Even if you had anything to say, you can’t seem to form a response. His head tilts. You can’t see it, but in the tense silence you’re sure he’s looking you over.

“Surely you know what we’ve come for,” he finally says. 

“I don’t,” you manage to say just over a whisper.

“The weapon plans. A reliable source has informed us that the senator entrusted them to you. And now you will give them to the First Order. Such a power is too dangerous in the hands of the New Republic.”

You shake your head. He might take that as a sign of resistance, so you clarify, “I’ve never been involved in my father’s work. I don’t know anything about-”

The words catch in your throat. His hand lifts, palm facing you, and something strange happens. An invisible force presses down on your head. Your knees buckle. The stormtroopers grab your arms before you can fall. 

Somehow, you can feel it. He’s pushing on the barrier encasing your mind, trying to get past it, trying to punch through it. You can’t even think of fighting it. The pounding gets heavier, stronger, like an incessant beating against the door of your mind. 

The dark figure’s hand snaps back to his side. You gasp as the heavy pressure releases. Apparently, Rerin’s barrier is quite strong. The man’s fists clench.

“ . . . A barrier,” he observes. You can feel him glaring down at you. Maybe he’s wondering why you have it. His head snaps to the side. “Anything?”

“No sir,” one of the troopers responds. “We haven’t been able to locate the plans in the house.”

The dark mask turns to you again. 

You wet your lips, trying to stand up straight. “I swear to you I don’t know anything about military secrets or weapon plans.”

He doesn’t respond. 

You have managed to keep it together this long, but the silence and the blank mask and the residual pounding in your head are too much. Hot tears burn your eyes. “Please-”

You blink, the waiting tears sliding down your cheeks. And for a moment, so fast you couldn’t be sure it was real, in the darkness behind your eyelids you could see that expanse of dark red sand from your dream a few weeks ago. Before you can question yourself, the man in front of you speaks. 

“Bring her.” 

You don’t get a chance to think of protesting. His hand waves in front of your face. Instead of pressure, you feel a heavy tiredness. You lose your limbs and slump down, your eyes falling closed.

“-reading 12 planetary defense starfighters approaching, sir.”

“Evasive maneuvers only. They will not attempt to destroy the ship.”

You wince at the crick in your neck as you pull your head up from where it had rolled onto your shoulder. You blink around at the inside of the shuttle. You’re strapped into one of the six seats in the back. The other five seats are all taken by stormtroopers. You try to lift your arm and find your wrists are bound in handcuffs. The undeniable weight of your situation sinks deep in your chest. 

You hope Cassie is okay. Should you have gone with her into the safe room? 

The shuttle rocks suddenly. None of the stormtroopers react. You glance at the cockpit, where you can see the dark leader of the First Order standing over the pilot and copilot. They continue to talk through strategy and maneuvering, sending instructions to the other ships accompanying them. 

You’re pressed hard against the safety straps as the shuttle jerks. Your heart flutters with the thought of rescue. Maybe . . . 

But no. After a tense few minutes and two more hits to the reflector, the shuttle jumps to hyperspace. 

It’s over. You’re not getting away from them now. At least, not for awhile. There's no doubt in your mind your father will send someone to find you. Whether or not they'll be successful is less certain.

What is the First Order going to do with you when they have what they want? Or find that you don’t have what they’re looking for? You didn’t even know your father dealt with military intel. And why did their informant tell them _you_ had the information? 

Your teeth clench together as _he_ approaches. You won’t be getting any answers anytime soon. At least not ones you would like. 

The dark helmet tilts down as he looks at you. Your nails dig into your palms. Why did he have to take you? Why couldn’t he leave you at the house when he found out you didn’t know anything? 

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe he would have just killed you. You didn’t know much about the First Order, but you couldn’t deny the strong impression of fear that fell on you when you first saw the shuttle. 

“Why is there a barrier erected over your mind?” the distorted voice asks.

You stare at his left arm, not daring to look up. There’s no use in staying silent or lying. The time for resisting passed before you even realized it. “For protection,” you mumble.

“Protection from what?”

“I have strange dreams that disturb my sleep. Having a barrier helps for some reason. I honestly don’t understand it myself,” you say, resisting the urge to lean your head back. You’re tired. 

“You did not erect it yourself?”

“No.” Why is he asking about this? Isn’t it some kind of weapon plan that he wants? Then again, what he was doing to you earlier - the pressure in your head - maybe it has something to do with that. What was he trying to do? He’s obviously not a navoi like Rerin, but maybe he’s from another species that has telepathic powers. Was he trying to read your mind to see if you were telling the truth?

“Tell me about your dreams,” he says after a short silence. 

You glance up, then remember you can’t see his expression through the mask anyway. “I don’t know. They’re weird, that’s all. They don’t usually make much sense.”

You shift in your seat, willing him to go away. Not that there’s anywhere for him to go in a shuttle this size. 

His arm raises. You flinch back. Nowhere to go-

The pressure beats down on your head a second time. 

“No . . . please . . .” you ground out. 

His hand twitches forward, pushing harder with that strange invisible force. Your head snaps back and bashes against the steel wall of the ship. The pounding doubles. The pain builds until tears sting in your eyes.

Is he punishing you for your answer or something?

Your head’s going to collapse. Your brain will fold in on itself. You can feel it. The pressure is like a drill against your forehead trying to carve its way into your skull. You scream as he pushes and pushes and-

All at once it stops. Your head tilts forward without the weight pressing against it. You blink, dizzy, at a black belt in front of you. The ship spins. 

You pass out.


	3. Chapter 3

Rough hands drag you out of your seat. You instinctively put your foot out to stand up but the troopers are pulling you along faster than your disoriented brain can keep up. They end up bearing your full weight, your toes dragging across the ground, as they march through the halls of . . . wherever you are. The First Order base? You try to look around, eyes bleary and unfocused, but nothing makes sense. All you see are metallic walls and uniformed soldiers.

They throw you into a room without giving you a chance to stand up on your own. Your chest hits the ground as the door hisses shut behind you. 

You don’t try to get up. Instead, you press your forehead against the cold floor. It relieves the pounding a bit. 

How did this happen? 

How did you go from studying for finals to being a prisoner of the First Order? All because of some weapon deal or whatever your father was doing. You always knew there was some risk that came with being involved in galactic politics - that was the whole reason your father had the safe room installed in the house - but you never _really_ believed anything would happen. Everything your father did was so divorced from your daily life. It all felt too far away to touch you.

A sob breaks from your throat. You press your palms to your aching head and draw your knees up under you. Crying hurts. It makes the headache sharper. But you can’t stop it now. 

They’re going to kill you. Once they’ve decided you have no more use, they’ll send in someone to put a blaster bolt through your head. It will probably be sooner rather than later. 

You sit up when your body has emptied itself of tears. Numbly, you look around the room. A cot, a toilet, and a sink; a prison cell. You crane your neck to wipe your nose on the sleeve of your jacket but stop short. It’s the jacket your father gave you. You don’t want to ruin it. For however long you’ll get to keep it. 

Instead you get up and clean your face at the sink. There’s no towel. No toilet paper. Not even a mirror. Only the bare necessities for a prisoner. 

You sit down on the cot and wait. 

It feels like you wait for hours. Maybe it has been hours. There’s no way to tell in the blank room. What are they doing? What do they want you for? Are they waiting for something?

You lean back and slowly doze off. Eventually the door slides open. You snap up into a sitting position. 

The tall, dark figure from earlier steps into the room. You bite your lip. Please don’t let him-

Almost before the door is closed, he is standing over you, arm outstretched. Your shoulders press to the wall as the invisible hand crushes your skull again. The barrier is still there. Somehow. It doesn’t stop the pain but it must be thwarting him in some way or he wouldn’t keep trying to squeeze your brain out. You would have thought his constant prodding would break down the barrier faster but it hasn’t yet. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing. Will he keep torturing you like this until the barrier shatters?

“Stop resisting me,” the metallic voice hisses. Shit. You’ve made him angry. Not that any of this mess is your fault. 

“I’m . . .” You groan, words failing. The weight gets heavier, pushing down on you until darkness rims your vision. 

Like before, just when you think you’re at the limit of consciousness, he stops. You gasp for air, tears on your face, and blink up at him. 

The man is trembling with rage. His fingers twitch. You brace yourself for a second round - or for a hard blow in the wake of your “disobedience”. Tense seconds pass. Neither of you move. You stare up at the dark visor in fearful readiness. Not being able to see his face, not knowing his expression or the thoughts in his eyes, only makes this whole situation a thousand times worse. 

He suddenly turns on his heel and storms out of the room. The door shuts behind him. You close your eyes against the new headache he left you with. Just when you’d gotten over the last one, too.

A muffled yell sounds from the other side of the wall. A loud crash accompanies it. You flinch. At least he didn’t attack you. For a few seconds you were sure that he would. Maybe he isn't allowed to hurt you?

You lay back down, exhausted, wishing you could just give him what he wanted so he would stop invading your mind. Should you tell them about Rerin so he could come take the barrier down? 

No, you wouldn’t want him to get wrapped up in this. Even if they would let you call for him. This is your problem and you’ll have to figure out a way to deal with it on your own. 

The door doesn’t open again for a long time. There’s nothing for you to do but close your eyes and try to sleep off the headache. Eventually, a slot in the door pulls back and a tray of food is pushed into the gap. You get up to take it, ravenously hungry. It’s impossible to tell how long it’s been since you last ate. 

“Where exactly am I? How long will they keep me in here for?” you ask the droid on the other side of the door. It slides the slot closed without giving a hint of an answer. Maybe it’s programmed not to reply to the prisoners. 

You sigh and sit back down on the cot, balancing the tray in your lap as you eat. Without any reference for time, it’s hard to know if this is supposed to be a morning meal or an evening one. 

Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters. You’re basically just waiting for your death sentence now. It’ll probably be once that man in the black mask gets what he wants from you. 

You keep expecting him to burst into the room and start trying to force his way into your head again. Every sound, every voice, every opening door makes you flinch and ready yourself for the inevitable. 

He doesn’t come. No one does. Your only contact is with the droid that brings your food. You count the days by your meals, fairly certain they’re giving you two a day. So far you’ve had five meals. 

The silence and lack of answers is driving you nuts. Your mind keeps running away from reality with nothing to ground it. Sometimes you imagine your family’s reaction and how hard they’re trying to get you back, one way or another. Other times you think this is all a crazy stress induced fever dream. You spend far too much time envisioning wild escape scenarios, as well as dramatic versions of your own execution.

By the time the door does open you’re almost happy for it. Any interaction would be better than suffering through your own thoughts. Then you see the black mask. You squeeze your eyes shut and all your muscles clench in anticipation of pain. 

“Get up,” another voice commands. You blink up in surprise at the stormtrooper. What? He takes your arm and pulls you onto your feet faster than you can react. 

Another trooper clamps handcuffs around your wrists. You’re barely paying attention, your eyes focused on the dark commander - at least you assume he’s the commanding officer - overseeing the operation. 

It’s impossible to see his expression, but he doesn’t seem as angry as last time. You guess you should feel lucky he’s apparently having a good day. 

He says nothing, following behind the two soldiers as they push you out of the room and into the hall. Your initial impression was right: this is a military base of some kind. Sterile grey hallways leading to various rooms and branching into other hallways, with uniformed and armored soldiers roaming through them, are the only things you see. You had imagined the First Order was some ragtag group of extremists resisting the New Republic, but this is far more organized and professional than you would have ever imagined. Does the New Republic know how much of a threat they might really be? 

The commander in black, whose name you still haven’t heard, moves to walk in front of you. There’s something else strange about him. In all of the people you pass, not one of them has a uniform even remotely similar to what he wears. You’re pretty sure it’s not a uniform at all. But he’s a commanding officer - at least the stormtroopers respond to his commands - so shouldn’t he wear something that shows his rank? And what about the helmet that hides his face and his voice? You don’t get it at all. 

He raises his hand as you approach a door on the right. After seeing what he can do when making that motion, your body twitches in anticipation. Nothing happens except that the door opens without him touching the panel. 

“General Hux,” he greets the person standing inside. You glance around to find that it’s some kind of communications room, complete with a holoprojector in the center. The stormtroopers behind you stop at the door to guard the entrance. 

The general glances at you, expression stoic. He definitely seems like a military commander, especially compared to your captor. “The senator is on standby.”

Your heart flips. He must mean your father. Maybe they’re going to negotiate your release. For the first time since you were taken from your home, you breathe in relief. 

“I hope this fabled weapon is worth the trouble,” the black mask responds. “For your sake.”

Hux glowers, his eyes flashing. “Your petty threats mean nothing, Ren. This device will be what convinces the galaxy of the First Order’s might. Not some barely functioning laser sword.”

Ren. So that’s his name. You watch his shoulders tighten, like the hackles of an angry wolf, as the entire room falls into a tense silence.

“Do not underestimate the power of the Force.” The low, dark tinge to the metallic voice raises the hairs on your arms. The Force? Is that what lets him put pressure on your mind? 

It’s hard to tell if Hux is affected by Ren’s assertion. His face remains a placid mask. Even without knowing either of them, it seems like this isn’t the first disagreement they’ve had. Hux turns away. 

“Open the channel,” he commands the communication officer seated at the console. Ren moves to stand close behind you, and his presence almost distracts you from the blue hologram that blinks into existence a moment later. 

“Dad!” you cry at the same time he says your name. Tears of relief burn in your eyes. 

“Senator Brakis,” Hux greets. “Thank you for joining us to negotiate. The First Order is not averse to making a fair trade.”

“Fair my ass,” your father grumbles. “You stole my daughter from my own home. I should be sending a fleet to come knock down your door.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Hux replies coolly. Your father says nothing. “Perhaps it’s because you know the Senate is a disorganized farce. Perhaps it’s because they have told you they will review your request and you know it will take weeks, even months, before they will lift a finger to help you. So you have come to negotiate directly. Am I wrong?”

The hologram flickers briefly as he shifts. “What are you after?”

“We understand that your scholars have been working on a hyperspace energy beam.”

“It’s a _hypothetical_ weapon made as a thought experiment. There is no real way to-”

“Then you will have no problem providing us with the information in exchange for your daughter’s freedom,” Hux says. 

Your father bites his lip and glances at you. Your heart thrums, all of the anticipation and relief draining away. Why is he hesitating?

“Unless,” Hux continues. “It is not as impossible as you suggest. I wonder, have you shared such a find with the New Republic? Or have you kept it locked away on your home planet?”

“The data is only of interest to philosophers and physicists. As I said, it’s only hypothetical.”

“I thought not,” Hux says, as if he had directly answered the question. “The terms of the trade are simple: your daughter for the hyperspace weapon plans. Do you or do you not accept?”

Your father looks at you again. The air rushes from your lungs. You can see it in his eyes. You know what he’s going to say. 

“Dad,” you croak. How could he do this to you? Did you mean nothing to him? Were you so easy to give up? “No-”

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“No, no, no. Dad! Dad, please,” you beg. You couldn’t believe it. This can’t be real. He can’t do this. 

“I am willing to negotiate,” he says to Hux. “I can give you information about other senators or the plans of the New Republic. But I will not give you a weapon that you would only use against me.”

“So be it,” Hux hisses. 

You step towards the hologram but are stopped by Ren’s hand wrapping around your arm. The window of escape is closing. Your only chance to get out of here is slipping away. You yank hard against his grip. “Let go of me!”

He doesn’t budge. You turn frantically to the hologram, sobbing, “Dad, please- Help me!”

The connection cuts out. You stare blankly at the empty holoprojector. A scream bubbles in your throat. Anger and horror mixing together as you try to fling yourself away from the man next to you. 

“Dad! Come back! Daddy-”

Your sob cuts short as an inexplicable weariness falls on you. Before you can think about why, you’re asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I have not abandoned this fic yet lmao Dunno when the next update will be but I at least made a base outline for all the major plot points so we have solid direction now! Yay plans!
> 
> Side note: Imma take huuuge (okay maybe not that huge) liberties with canon content in this story. Like it says on the tin, this story only takes TFA into account, and even then I'm going to play around with some stuff that I thought could have been implemented better. Like Snoke. my Snoke is gonna be better dont@me

You wake up in your cell. Tears are still caked to your face so you know it hasn’t been too long since Ren put you to sleep. You stare numbly at the grey ceiling, every word your father spoke replaying in your mind. 

How could he . . . .

You knew your relationship with him wasn’t as strong as it once was. There had been a distance growing between you - there was no denying that. But still. You’re his daughter. Did he really have no sense of love or loyalty? Was the senate and his own power all he thought about now? 

The prison droid shoves a plate of food in the door slot. You don’t move. You’d rather die now. What was the point in hoping for anything else? 

Time passes. Who knows how much of it. There wasn’t any reason to care anyway. The door opens. Ren. You know it’s him without looking. He stands over your prone form. 

“Your father betrayed you.” Even with the metallic undertone you catch the smug lilt to his voice. “There’s no longer any reason to defend him.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

He chuckles, the sound warped into a choppy, clipped bark. “We have no intention of doing so.”

You sigh, almost wishing he said yes. “I told you before. I don’t know anything. I’m useless to you.”

“Not quite,” he replies. You finally turn your gaze to the abyssal mask. He doesn’t explain. “Come.”

You don’t move. 

A strong invisible pressure shoves you onto the floor. “Ow! Don’t do that!”

“Stand up.” His clipped tone signals that his patience is running thin. You remember the crashing noise from when he was angry last time and decide not to test him. You begrudgingly get to your feet. He motions for you to walk ahead of him into the hallway. 

“Where are we going?”

“The Supreme Leader has requested your presence,” he says. Supreme Leader? So you’ve gotten the attention of the big fish himself, huh? Lucky you.

“Is _he_ going to kill me?”

“No.”

There’s a nudge in your right side, pushing you to turn left. You know Ren didn’t touch you. It must be that force power he mentioned earlier. What is it, anyway? For that matter, how does he use it? Is he from some unique species? And is that power why he has authority without abiding by the dress code? Does he even follow any of the rules here? You brush your thumb across your lower lip as the questions roll around in your mind. 

He didn’t put any handcuffs on you. It’s a sudden thought that brings your attention to your relative freedom compared to your capture and the trip to the communications room. No stormtrooper guards. Only you and Ren and whoever passes you in the hall.

Should you run? 

You recall your father’s face as he refused to save you. Is it even worth it? No, no, you can’t think like that. You’re not running to him, you’re just saving yourself. Getting away from this insane military compound where you very obviously don’t belong and returning to your normal life - to school and your studies and Cassie and your mom. It doesn’t have to be over yet. You haven’t lost everything. This could be your chance!

You walk for awhile longer, keeping an eye on the uniformed woman coming from the opposite direction. She passes by. You take three more steps towards the next junction and bolt as fast as you can for the right hand path.

This place is swarming with soldiers but if you can just get away from Ren you might-

You don’t get far. Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise. Maybe it wouldn’t be if you were stopped by normal means. But it’s as if your body has betrayed you by suddenly refusing to move. He did this. You can’t turn your head to look but you don’t need to. What _can’t_ he do with those stupid powers?

You are pulled back by a hard tug to your navel and slam into the corridor wall. The breath knocks from your lungs. Or maybe that’s the new pressure around your throat. 

Before, you thought the headaches were some manifestation of a mental strain. You assumed, like with the navoi, any physical discomfort was a response from your mind. The crushing pressure you feel is not that. This is a real, intangible vice gripping your neck.

You look up into the endless black visor of Ren’s mask. His hand is raised, clenched in the air like he’s holding an invisible version of your throat. You choke on nothing, head spinning, as fresh tears drip down your cheeks.

“You,” he rumbles disdainfully. “I have been lenient but you are testing my patience. Don’t assume that your position as some senator’s daughter means anything here.”

Like before, the pressure releases in an instant. You crumple to the floor, coughing and trying to fill your lungs with deep, wheezing breaths. Your nails dig into your palms.

“Get up.”

You aren’t a confrontational person. You don’t argue with others much. If you’re angry with someone, you usually get over it in a few weeks. You don’t know if you’ve ever really hated anyone in your entire life. 

As you look up at that emotionless black mask, you _hate_ him. 

All of this, all of your suffering. It’s his fault. He was the one who ordered them to take you with them. If he had just left you there where you belonged, your whole life wouldn’t be in complete shambles. Sure, you would have had a scary experience dealing with the First Order, but you would have recovered. 

You just want to get out of this. You want to go home and go back to the way things were. If only you hadn’t trusted that stupid, nagging little thought and gone into the safe room with Cassie. Then Ren wouldn’t have found you and they’d have been forced to leave empty handed. But now? Now there is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ you can do to change your situation. You’re completely at the mercy of the dark figure before you and the organization he serves. You know it. More than that, he knows it. And you hate him for it. 

You let out a weak, hoarse sob as you brace yourself against the wall and try to lift up on wobbling legs. This isn’t fair. Why did it have to be you? What did you do to deserve this? You hate this. You hate him and this place and your weakness. 

Ren sighs and takes hold of your arm, firm but not rough. He pulls you towards him, stoops down, and effortlessly lifts you over his shoulder. One arm braces behind your knees to keep you in place. You hiccup pathetically and grip his stupid scarf to keep it from swinging against your face at every step.

He says nothing. You sniffle and try not to break into sobs. You’re tired of crying. It feels like that’s all you’ve been doing since you got here. Plus, you’re starting to get another headache.

Being carried isn’t exactly comfortable, but after awhile the rocking motion and general exhaustion lull you into a sleepy daze. The spell is broken when Ren stops, setting you on your feet in front of a large blast door. You wipe your face as he punches in the access code. 

The door opens into a dark room. You take a half step back as an ominous sensation blows over you like a dark wind. Something is in there. Something powerful and dangerous. You don’t want to find out what it is. 

Ren watches your momentary struggle. Both of you know that you have no choice but to enter. You swallow the nervous lump in your throat, all of your previous misery swallowed up in dread. 

It’s a miracle you step forward at all. You don’t remember doing it. Trembling, you walk behind Ren down a long aisle and up a set of stone steps. The circular platform you find yourself on stands in front of a large, raised dais bathed in darkness. No one’s there. 

Ren drops to one knee. A sharp push against your back forces you off balance and your knees crash to the marble floor. 

You glare at the man beside you, trying to ignore the new pain in your legs. 

“Supreme Leader,” Ren says. “I have brought the girl you requested.”

A large hologram blinks to life in the dim light. You were expecting the leader of the First Order would be human. The giant before you is evidently not from your species. You can’t tell if the hologram represented his real size, but the strangeness of his features beneath the collection of old battle scars is enough for you to know that he is, in fact, very different. He feels . . . ancient. The ominous power you sensed earlier returns. A shudder crawls up your spine. 

“There is no need to be so rough with our guest, Kylo Ren,” the Supreme Leader purrs in a voice far too soft and amiable for such a dark visage. 

“Forgive me, Supreme Leader. I did only what was necessary.”

The shadowed hologram watches his subordinate for several long seconds. The terrible silence gives your mind room to focus on the frantic beating of your own heart. More than ever, the need to escape rushes through your veins.

You feel his gaze fall on you. “I am Snoke. You are welcome here, daughter of the New Republic.”

“T-thank you,” you answer, not sure how to respond to such an address. He makes you sound way more important than you actually are. 

Snoke’s soft voice calls your name. “There is a great power lying dormant within you. Yet you have chosen to stifle it.” 

Power? What the hell? What is this even about? Oh - maybe . . . maybe he’s got the wrong person? Maybe he thinks you’re someone else? He does seem pretty old. Maybe he’s going senile or something. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m only here because your organization wants something from my father.”

“No,” he says. “That is not the only reason. Kylo Ren sensed it. As have I. You could be far more than what you are. And, by chance or fate, you have been led here; the one place in the galaxy that could help you grow.”

You glance at Ren - Kylo Ren, apparently - and can’t help but think of his strange powers. Is that what this is about? Is he saying you have something similar? 

No, that’s impossible. You just have weird dreams. Dreams that can be stopped with a mental barrier, but still. Just dreams. 

As if feeling your reluctance, he adds, “Allow me to show you.”

One great hand extends. You can only stare in horror as his index finger nears your head. He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t need to. 

When Kylo Ren tried to get into your head before, it was very much an outside force pressing in on you. Snoke, however, curled his essence beneath the barrier and shattered it from within, the force of it exploding outward from your forehead.

You completely collapse. The pain- It’s-

Invasive pounding. A searing heat through the crown of your head and down your spine. Your skull has been torn open, you’re sure of it. You would reach up to check if you had any control of your limbs, but they are twitching sporadically on their own accord, tingling with pinpricks of pain. Something warm and wet trickles from your nose. 

“Take her to the medical bay,” Snoke says far above you. “It is unfortunate that you were not able to acquire the weapon plans Hux so desired. Continue preparation of the dark energy cannon. It will suffice.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“As for . . .” His words jumble together and lose all meaning. 

Your toes curl, sinking into soft, wet sand. The beach. Your dream. 

A harsh wind blows across the landscape, flinging sand against your skin and face. You shield your eyes. Waves crash louder and harder against shore. 

_“The Force is strong with you,”_ a voice you half recognize whispers. It’s somehow more powerful than the roaring storm. 

You drop your arm slightly, squinting into the moonless night, and only just see the towering wave before it swallows you whole. 

Your father is crying at your feet. His arms wrap around your calves, his face in your knees. You look up and around. Home. Untouched. Like nothing happened, except-

“I’m so sorry. Everything you suffered was my fault,” he sobs. “I’ve put you through so much pain. How could you ever forgive me?”

Your mother, too, wraps her arms around your neck. Are you really home? Are they really so happy to see you? Just the way you imagined they would be. But isn’t this only a dream? 

You don’t know what to say.

 _“Everything you desire.”_ The voice again. So it isn’t real. Your heart sinks.

The scene shifts. You find yourself in a barren wasteland, not unlike the dead ocean. Your boot is planted firmly on a chest. A red glow from the humming weapon in your hand illuminates Kylo Ren’s unreadable mask. You cannot see it but oh, you can feel it. The fear sliding from his limbs in tremulous waves. You have the power now. 

You glance at the glowing sword in your hand, then down at his defenseless figure. You could kill him. It would be so easy. Besides, it’s only a dream, right?

 _“Everything you could become,”_ it whispers in your ear. _“You need only the Force.”_

A thrill of new ambition tingles up the back of your neck. So this could be real? All of it? If you figure out how to use this Force thing?

You’d beat Kylo Ren at his own game, fight your way home, and have the satisfaction of watching your father beg your forgiveness for throwing you to the wolves. 

The thirst for it, for the power to do it, clenches your throat. How? How can you get it? Whatever you have to do. You will have it. Everything you want will be yours even if you have to take it by force. Adoration. Fear. Power. Yours. All of it-

Your foot slips as a chasm opens beneath you. You reach out, catch the edge, dig your fingers into the earth to keep from falling. Kylo Ren is gone. So is the strange, consuming confidence from a moment ago. 

Your heart thunders, panic taking hold as you slip closer to the abyss. Darkness swallows your feet, your legs. It’s eating you. It’s going to consume you. 

“No! No!” You claw at the dirt, trying to scramble up onto land. But the soil shifts and becomes sand. Red sand. It slides through your fingers, faster the harder you try to find a grip. You’re sinking, slowly, into the sand and darkness. 

Now to your chest. Now your chin. You scream for help. For the voice. For anyone. The moon overhead bleeds red. 

This is a dream, right? You can’t die, right? But the chasm of darkness beneath you says otherwise. You remember it from a dream before. The smothering, suffocating darkness. Once it had you, you would never escape. 

And now it had you.

A firm hand takes hold of your flailing arm and, with one strong tug, pulls you out of the hole. You gasp as if there had been no air in the abyss. Your hands and knees press against solid ground. Where are you this time? 

“Be careful. It’ll swallow you whole if you let it,” a man says. You look up at your rescuer. 

He greets you with a boyish half grin framed by wavy brown hair. There’s a vertical scar beside his right eye. The strangest thing is, you know him. No . . . you haven’t met him. You’re sure of it. Just . . . there’s something about him. His presence. Like you’ve felt it before.

“Who are you?” you ask. 

He crouches down to your level, opens his mouth to speak-

The man looks up sharply. A powerful, ominous energy presses against your back. 

All at once the dream ends.

You wake suddenly in a bright room.


End file.
